


Stance, Hold & Shoot

by crankyjones



Series: Tyrus Month 2018 [11]
Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Basketball, Day 18, M/M, Tyrus Month 2018, Tyrus Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyjones/pseuds/crankyjones
Summary: TJ teaches Cyrus how to play basketball. He tries to, at least.





	Stance, Hold & Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 18!  
> okay they cute i love thEM  
> i imagined them in high school, so they're like 17  
> xx

“Okay, first step; you have to find the right stance.”  
Cyrus’ eyes went from the ball between his hands to TJ, and to the ball again.  
“And how am I supposed to do that?” He asked.

TJ chuckled. Teaching that boy how to shoot a basketball was going to be a _lot_ harder than he thought. Cyrus warned him, though. He had said at least ten times that he sucked at sports. But the captain of the basketball team just told him it couldn’t be that bad. Turned out it could.

“Let me show you.”  
He walked two steps to reach Cyrus who was now right next to him.  
“Feet lined up with your shoulders. Legs a little bit bended. Like this.” TJ showed how he was supposed to stand and Cyrus copied him. “Great! Now, step two; you have to hold the ball in the right way. Give me the ball.” Cyrus gave him. Their fingers brushed. “Alright. Ball right in front of your eye. Elbow under the ball. One hand on the side to support the ball and the other one under to shoot it. Your turn.”

The ball landed in Cyrus’ arms. He looked at it as if it was some disgusting traditional plate his mother forced him to eat when he was younger, which quite amused the boy.  
“Eye. Elbow. Hands.” TJ repeated.  
The ball fell from the brunet’s hands and jumped on the floor. TJ’s reflexes made him run and catch it to give it back to Cyrus.  
“It’s okay, let me help you,” he smiled.

In a split of seconds, TJ was behind Cyrus. He put his hands on the boy’s, which were gripping the ball. His torso almost touched his back. Key-word: ‘almost’. He let out a shaky breath, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice even though his mouth was incredibly close to his ear.  
“Eye.” The word escaped his lips in a whisper as he positioned the ball in Cyrus’ shooting eye. “Elbow.” TJ let his fingers brush against the brunet’s body to straighten his elbow under the ball. His skin was smooth under his touch. He gulped. “Hands.” He took his hands in his and put them correctly. TJ was sure Cyrus could hear his loud and fast heartbeat. Their closeness flustered him but he couldn’t bring himself to step back. “There you go,” TJ exhaled, trying to cool down the heat in his body—which was definitely not because of the hot weather of the summer.

“Step three,” TJ announced, his voice so hoarse it almost didn’t sound like him. “You shoot.”  
“Can you… Can you show me?” Cyrus’ voice was low. TJ heard him gulp down. His lips parted as his fingers pressed Cyrus’ against the ball.

TJ bended his knees, expecting Cyrus to bend his as well—but he didn’t, and fell. Well, he would’ve fallen if TJ wasn’t there to catch him. Out of fear, probably, the brunet turned his head to look at him.  
And, excuse his French, _fuck_.  
They were so, so close. Like, too close to be healthy. But _fuck_.  
The worst part (or the best part—TJ wasn’t sure yet) was that Cyrus didn’t move an inch, letting his nose brush against TJ’s. Their lips were parted and they seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. The captain felt soft hands holding his shoulders, and his neck. His own surrounded Cyrus’ waist. The ball was long forgotten, probably rolling to the other side of the field.  
None of them really knew how or who did it, but their lips touched. It was not a kiss, they just touched. They moved a little bit but there never was a kiss. TJ wasn’t sure if he wanted to tease Cyrus or to see if he was okay with them kissing. But, either way, _fuck_.  
Cyrus’ hands were in his hair, now. TJ was gripping hard on his waist. They somehow ended up even closer but they still didn’t kiss. The brunet let his lips brush against the boy’s. Once, twice, a hundred times. TJ’s eyes shut closed. He was in the dark but all his senses were screaming Cyrus’ name. He let his right hand run up his body to land on his neck, and on his jaw.  
Okay, he was going to do it. He needed to do it. He was going to go crazy if he didn’t.  
“Can I kiss you?” TJ asked in a breath.  
“Are you really asking?” Cyrus whispered and the jock’s eyes opened.  
“Can I?” He repeated, drawing himself in the dark colour of the boy’s irises.  
“Please.”  
TJ crashed his lips against Cyrus’.  
_Fuck_.


End file.
